Chapter 2: One Tin Soldier

Go ahead and hate your neighbor,
Go ahead and cheat a friend.
Do it in the name of Heaven,
You can justify it in the end.
There won't be any trumpets blowing
Come the judgment day,
On the bloody morning after...
One tin soldier rides away.

-Coven-

Winky woke me promptly at eight.

A half-second later she popped out of the way of the curse I'd instinctively sent her way.

"Sorry," I said immediately.

"Master doesn't need to apologize," Winky said, wringing her ears.

Master…did I ever mention that I hate being called that? I shook my head. "Yes, I do," I said. "You were just doing as I asked, Winky. You didn't deserve to have a curse flung at you. I've been living on the run from Voldemort and—oh for the love of Merlin stop that. The man is dead, Winky. He's never going to harm anyone ever again."

Winky froze, one ear twisted in her hand.

"You, er, can let your ear go?" I tried.

She did.

I suddenly understood why Hermione would pinch the bridge of her nose when Ron and I were being particularly frustrating. I managed the urge to do the same. "Look, Winy, I've just spent most of the last year camping in a little tent, constantly on the alert that one of His goon squads was going to drop in on me. Try not to startle me." I thought for a moment, "You, uh, should probably stand well back and call out to me rather than shake me awake."

"Winky will be doing that, Master Harry Potter Sir."

Back to four names, damn. At least it was better than having a sycophant drool 'yes, Master' all the time.

"Yous and Missus Auror's food will be up shortly."

"Thank you," I said, wondering how Tonks was going to take her new name. "Could you go into Professor Snape's stores and get out a dose of hangover potion? Er, hangover relief potion?" The man's stores were all carefully labeled and dated, with a mania that was definitely obsessive and probably compulsive. The fact that his students knew that meant that it'd be just like him to leave a poison that caused hangovers to be labeled 'hangover potion' in case someone tried to nick some.

"Put it by Tonks' food," I added.

"Yes, Master Harry Potter Sir, Winky is be doing that right away."

Despite not having nightmares, I didn't feel rested. My bones ached, my muscles had the consistency of perfectly cooked spaghetti, my eyes felt like the Sandman had dumped powdered glass in them and the lids felt gummed together and thick, and my mouth tasted like Wormtail had shifted into his rat form, curled up in it, died, and had started to rot.

I floo-called Andromeda again, she didn't seem to be the partying type either and if nothing else I could write a note and leave it. To my surprise she was already up and dressed and looking better than…well, certainly than I did, better than she'd looked last night at any rate.

"I thought you'd be calling again," she said.

How do you respond to that? There was a part of me that wanted to be sad. To curl up and mope and have nightmares that woke me up screaming and all the other things I'd done when Sirius died. Instead I felt numb. There was this horrible nothingness where all of my feelings had been, but at least that numb-feeling left me able to function.

"Can you handle funeral arraignments for Remus?" I asked. "Tonks will probably want a hand, but we need to move before the Death Eaters and scum that got away can start destroying evidence and fleeing the country and whatever."

Andromeda nodded and started to say more but I'd gotten what I wanted and pulled my head out. Contact the Weasleys? Numb was good, useful, but I wasn't sure it could stand up to that, not yet.

Coward.

I pushed open the door of the guest room. "Hey Tonks, wakey, wakey," I said. A gesture at the globes made them start glowing.

A pained groan from the bed and the covers jerked up to cover the pillow. At least she didn't curse me. But then, I had packed her wand into the top drawer of the bed-side cabinet the night before rather than let her sleep with it under the pillow the way I had. I walked over to the bed and jerked all the covers off.

Tonks hair was stringy and an unappealing shade of pea soup green. Given that her hair had reverted to what I assumed was its natural color after Sirius' death it was probably more indicative of how she felt physically than what the loss of Remus had done to her.

"Potter," she wheezed and glared up at me while squinting against the light and wincing in pain.

"Tonks," I returned. "You look awful."

"I feel…" her skin went green.

I helped her hobble to the bathroom and managed not to make any cracks about the Throne while holding her hair out of the way as she emptied her stomach.

"Where? How? Teddy—"

I stopped her by the simple method of not getting out of her way. "Teddy's fine," I said. "We're in the most heavily warded set of apartments in Hogwarts. Take a shower."

"I want to see my son," Tonks said.

"If you go in there looking and smelling the way you do, he'll have nightmares for a month," I said.

"As if you look any better than me," she snarled.

"I don't have green hair and skin and spend ten minutes praising the porcelain God." Oh well, I tried. "Don't make me make it an order, Tonks."

Her eyes were flat. That was just as disturbing as her hair. People's eyes shouldn't change. Dumbledore's should always twinkle, Severus' should always be cold, Voldemort's should always be angry, my eyes (I'm told) should always be green, and Tonks' eyes should never be flat, lifeless. (That three of the people on my list were dead was beside the point).

"You think you can give me orders?" she asked flatly.

"Shacklebolt put me in charge of the Aurors last night," I said. "Or this morning, whenever it was. So until I'm dead or he finds someone better, yes."

That seemed to jar her. "Shack's in charge of the DMLE then?"

"The Ministry," I said. "I'll explain over breakfast, after you shower."

Tonks glanced beyond me into the guest room and the living room beyond it. "Fine," she said. Then added petulantly. "I feel terrible."

"Given how much you drank, I'm not surprised. I'll have a hangover potion ready for you."

I closed the door behind me. I went to the office and checked on Teddy who was just starting to wake up. He clung stubbornly to the tail of the transfigured plush werewolf as I changed him, but swapped it in favor of the bottle I presented him. Maybe I was getting the hang of babies. Change, feed, put to bed, repeat as needed.

There was a flare of light from the living room and a voice asking 'hello?'

A familiar voice.

"Professor McGonagall," I said, recognizing the face in the fireplace.

She seemed surprised to see me. "Dare I ask how you got into Professor Snape's rooms? No one else seems to know how, including myself."

"I'm Harry Potter," I said dryly. "I can do anything."

Did her lips twitch? Was that a smile? From Professor McGonagall? I needed new glasses.

"Who is that?" she asked.

"Teddy Lupin, my Godson," I said.

"Can I come in?" she asked. "There are a few people that need to talk to you.

"Great," I said. "C'mon down."

Her head withdrew and the fire flared back into place. A moment later it turned green and she stepped out. Dean, Lee Jordan, a wizard, and two witches I didn't know came through.

"Dean, Lee, didn't see you at the party last night," I said. "How did you manage to luck out?"

The two in question smirked at me. Traitors.

"Professor, Headmistress now, I presume, it's good to see you again," I continued.

"And you, Mr. Potter. Congratulations, it seems like you didn't need potions after all."

"Yeah, well," I shrugged.

She looked at the plush werewolf that Teddy had. "That's a remarkably fine piece of transfiguration, Mr. Potter. I doubt I could have done better. The fur pattern, is it…"

"Yes," I said softly as Teddy gummed the tuft of the toy's tail. "I imagine dad and Sirius are having a grand old time teasing him about it."

"Indeed," she said.

"So. What's been happening?" I asked.

The older witch (not older than McGonagall, but older than anyone else present) said. "I'm Constance Hammers."

There were too many cracks to make with a name like that, but she continued before I could decide which one.

"I'm your new boss."

"Joy," I said.

"We're operating under martial law," she continued. "That means—"

"The law is whatever we say it is," I said.

"Not quite."

"Too bad. Tell Shack I fully intend to wipe out the Death Eaters from the community, the corruption from the ministry, the bigots from the wizengamot, the power from the old families, and the stupidity from society." I paused. "On second thought I might get Hermione to deal with that last one."

Dean and Lee snickered. McGonagall's lips thinned, and twitched upward, but stopped just short of breaking the horizontal. Not quite a smile but close.

"You can't do that," one of the wizards said.

"Watch me," I said. "Shacklebolt gave me a job I don't want. He's going to have to live with that…unless he finds someone better or something kills me first. Is there anything else?"

Lee nodded. He looked really tired. I wondered when he got up, or if he even bothered going to sleep. "We've got a couple of the first level dungeons set up as a temporary morgue. Anti-decay spells and the like. The grounds will be cleared up shortly."

"I though Kingsley wanted a documentation team to go through first?" I said.

"That's, uh, my job," the wizard said. "I'm Henry Livingstone, no relation."

I wonder how many people asked that he introduced himself that way.

"This is one of my assistants, Virginia Snoddy," he continued.

Dean flinched before she introduced herself.

"Ginny, please."

Oh, hey, I do have feelings after all. That one felt like someone shoved a pike in my gut and twisted.

"Ms. Snoddy," I said. It came out colder than I intended. Oops.

She flinched. "Did I do something wrong?"

"I tried to explain," Dean said.

"Ginny Weasley was my girlfriend," I told her. "We agreed not to get engaged until after… As you can see, that didn't happen."

"I'm sorry for your loss," she said awkwardly.

"So am I. Why are you two here?"

"Oh, sorry," Henry said. "We're MIB."

And now we know where muggle conspiracy theories come from. I wonder what the Yank Ministry, or whatever they call it, has going on at Area 51.

"Magical Investigation Bureau," he added when I didn't react.

"They're like magical crime-scene techs," Dean supplied.

Let's hear it for the muggle-born/raised/whatever. If something makes no sense relate it to a show on the telly.

"So everything has been documented?"

Snoddy nodded.

"Then why are you still here?"

Henry huffed. "My team, has been directly assigned to the Auror department for as long as martial law is in effect. Young Dean Thomas here has been helping us document the grounds and castle."

Grand, I thought.

"Grand," I said.

"I helped with sketches," Dean said. Made sense, he had as much artistic talent in his toenail as Draco did on a broom. Given that Draco Malfoy had once been scouted by the Junior England Team as a Chaser it said a lot about both of them. (That Draco chose to play Seeker as a way to get at me just showed how stupid he was).

"Lee?" I asked.

"I've been organizing cleanup," he offered.

"So everything is nicely documented. My Auror department has some magical investigators. And the bodies are being stowed in the dungeons. Did I miss anything?"

The four traded looks.

"We, er, didn't find You-Know—"

"Call him 'Voldemort'," I said, cutting off Henry.

The older wizard and witches flinched. Dean and Lee didn't.

More people to train. Lovely. Maybe I should just recruit the entire DA. Start over with some real talent.

"We didn't find his wand, Harry," Dean said.

I know. He hadn't brought his yew wand to that last fight. I'd had to go back for it. I had both, actually. I didn't want someone turning Voldemort's old wand into some kind of relic, and the Elder Wand was just too bloody dangerous to be left lying around. I also had Draco's hawthorne wand, but I had plans for it.

"I see," I said instead. "What else do you wish to tell me?" I asked.

"The dead Death Eaters," Hammers said, "present us with an opportunity. Applied tracking spells—"

"No," I said.

"Excuse me?"

"You want to use the bodies to track who buries them. Track them to their homes or hideouts, identify and track whoever claims the bodies, who attends the funerals, who those people interact with in turn," I said. "You can do it, I can't stop you, but you won't get any help from my department. Not to do the tracking, not to do any arresting."

"You work for me, Potter," she growled.

"Then you can fire me," I said. "The families will be allowed to claim their dead relatives. They will not be molested by me or my Aurors," I looked at Henry, "or our staff. We won't act on any intelligence you derive from doing so."

She scowled at me. "Fine, Potter. We won't try tracking the bodies."

"I'll have a friend checking just to make sure," I promised her. "Is there anything else?"

Hammers and Professor McGonagall traded uneasy looks.

Hammers sighed angrily.

"We were keeping a number of prisoners here, in Hogwarts," she said.

"Heavily secured towers and dungeons, broken up by as much space as practical and behind the heaviest wards we could throw up," I said. "I know. I had a couple of friends who helped on the warding. Lee was one of them, but not the only one."

"The decision was made to transfer them in groups to Azkaban," Hammers said.

"And it got screwed up?"

"You knew?"

Azkaban is the 'most secure' prison in the world—or so everyone says. People are sheep, and are about just as bright. It has something to do with herd mentality and how the intelligence of a group is inversely proportional to the number of people in it. Hermione tried to explain it once when we were bored. I ignored most of it.

The truth of the matter is that Azkaban is only slightly less leaky than the colander I had to use at the Dursleys. Most of Azkaban's reputation came from the dementors. Given the number of times they've tried to kill me I'm not what you'd consider a fan.

"I haven't heard one good thing about Azkaban, ever," I said. "Most escape proof prison my arse. I'm getting rid of the dementors. It's not at the top of my list but it's damn near it."

"The Dementors are—"

"Worse than useless as guards. They couldn't see an escaping prisoner in broad daylight," I said. "We're the only country in the world that still uses them. How do you think we're going to look if we just start dumping people into their presence? Under Martial Law, if I remember correctly, we don't even need to put them before a show trial to do it."

Damn right I remembered correctly. That was how they put Sirius and a couple of others away. They didn't actually use the Martial Law provisions (much) because Voldemort hadn't as infiltrated as thoroughly as he did this time. They hadn't needed them, except in special cases where it was easier to just throw people in prison and forget about them. Or to suddenly change trial times, bring them before a full wizengamot, and deny them a defense advocate as they had in my case. Even Fudge hadn't been a big enough fool to try and have Dumbledore removed.

Unfortunately, as much as the Ministry (and especially the law enforcement department) needed to change, there were more important things.

"Forget it, what happened?"

"We found a transport team dead," Hammers said. "Twelve people. Their wands, IDs, and valuables were all taken."

"How many escaped?"

"Eight," she said, then hesitated.

"Who?"

"Antonin Dolohov, among others," she admitted. "The full file is on your desk."

"Great, now get out, all of you. Dean, Lee, stick around Hogwarts, will you? I'm going to need to talk to the DA, but later."

Dean nodded, "I'll make sure everyone knows. Usual spot?"

"I don't know how much is left of it," I said. "Besides, it's not like we're a secret anymore."

He nodded and they began to leave. McGonagall hesitated by the fireplace. "I admit, I am surprised to find you in these quarters. I—"

"I found out a few things about his motivations," I said shortly. "Why Dumbledore trusted him with his life…and with his death."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Did he…" she hesitated.

I'm not sure I knew what she wanted to ask. Hell, she probably didn't know herself. "He served as the Headmaster of Hogwarts as best he could, in the best traditions of the post and Slytherin House, in a very difficult time," I said finally. I hesitated. "We very likely would not have won if it weren't for his actions."

"Can you tell them?"

"I will, but not now. Too many things to do."

She nodded. "Well. I suppose you're free to use his quarters then, until…" she shrugged.

"I plan to. At least until I can be sure of the security at the old Headquarters," I said.

She turned to Winky who was standing in one corner. Damn, I'd missed her entirely. If she'd been an assassin I'd be dead. "I release you of your oaths to Hogwarts in favor to Harry Potter."

Winky looked…perky. She swept a hand and the towel she'd been wearing toga-style shifted from Hogwarts' purple to green with gold trim. The Potter colors, if I remembered correctly.

"Thank you."

She nodded.

"Severus' body is in the Shrieking Shake. Can you see that it's retrieved with proper dignity?"

She nodded again. "Do you want to make arraignments?"

"I…" I shook my head. "You know what Kingsley dropped in my lap, and what Hammers just brought. I need to find what's left, what I have to work with, and if I don't get things moving people will be able to bury evidence so deep that we'll never find it."

"I understand," she said softly.

"Can you?"

"Certainly," she said. "I suppose the old cemetery is best."

"No," I said thinking of another place, "The cemetery in Godric's Hollow, next to my mother, opposite my father."

She rocked back on her heals in surprise. "Why there?"

I smiled, a small bitter smile. "I didn't have any friends before Hogwarts, he had one. I made true friends at Hogwarts, he lost the one he had…and we both loved people with red hair who went before their time."

"Li—" she closed her mouth abruptly, but I knew the question she'd stopped short of asking was my mother's name. Instead she said. "I look forward to hearing the full story," and ducked through the floo.

The shower turned off.

Tonks came out as Teddy let out a monster belch and his hair turned green. The same green I saw every time I looked in the mirror. Cleaning charms had removed the worst of the grime but left her robes still rumpled. Her hair was a dull, limp, and black. Otherwise she looked better.

"Hangover potion," she grunted.

"Food first," I said. "The label says not to take on an empty stomach."

Winky had set out pancakes and porridge and a bowl of fruit, along with milk and pumpkin juice. Tonks grabbed her bowl of porridge and began eating it sullenly.

"Kingsley put me in charge of the Aurors earlier this morning," I said.

"Congratulations, I'm taking emergency personal leave," she said.

"Leaves are canceled," I said. "Someone had the bright idea of moving prisoners last night. Eight Death Eaters escaped, in addition to whoever wasn't captured last night and is still out there."

"Bully them."

"Including Dolohov," I said.

She stopped eating abruptly, started at me for a moment, then turned and eyed the potion warily. I could see the debate in her mind. Risk the nasty effects of a potion on an unfull stomach, or keep eating. She kept eating.

"What about…" she stopped.

"I floo-called your mother. She's seeing to arraignments for Remus."

"What about…have they recovered Dad's…body yet?"

"I honestly don't know," I said.

She spooned down the last of the porridge and gunned down the potion as I teased Teddy with the transfigured werewolf.

"I need you to listen to me for a moment and not say anything until I'm done," I said.

She nodded. A quiet Nymphadora Tonks. It was just as telling as the lack of color in her hair. Unfortunately for her I needed her too much to allow her to grieve. Fortunately the Dursleys had taught me a great way of keeping my mind off my problems. Keep myself as busy as possible.

"I promised Remus that if anything happened to the two of you I'd do everything I could to make sure that Ted didn't go through what I had to," I said. "I don't know how secure your place is right now. I do know that Headquarters is not secure."

"Where are we?"

"Severus Snape's quarters in Hogwarts," I said. "Long story. Suffice to say that anyone who tries to break in with hostile intent is going to be surprised by the wards. Lethally surprised."

She nodded at that. An accepting nod that was just a little too eager for someone to try just that than was really suitable for an Auror to show; but mostly just accepting something that she wasn't at all happy about, but didn't have the power to change.

"Winky, is in my service. If you need any help at all I expect you to ask. I don't care if you go to your mother instead of one of us, but you are not allowed to burn out on me, understood?"

"Yes, Sir," she said, a touch of anger in her voice. Good. An angry Tonks was better than an utterly depressed Tonks.

"Remus might have meant raising him, Tonks, but neither of us ever suspected I'd be where I am under the conditions I am," I continued. "Shacklebolt is Minister, but he's running a provisional ministry under Martial Law, with elections to be held a year and a day from when it was declared which was earlier today. I have two immediate goals. One is hunt down the immediate threats, the remaining Death Eaters and the like. The second is to clean up the Auror office. I don't know if it was infiltrated. I don't know if there were out-right collaborators, or people just took off running. But until the office is clean, I can't start my long-term plans."

"What are your long-term plans?" she asked neutrally.

"I'm going to purge the ministry of corruption. I'm going to dismantle the wizengamot and replace it with a legislature that actually answers to the people it governs, all the people, the goblins, and vampires, and werewolves, and centaurs, and merfolk, as well as the wizards and witches. I'm going to make sure that a separate and independent judiciary is created, with oversight to make certain that what happened to Sirius can't happen again. By the time I'm done the only things that'll be the same are the titles, and maybe not even then."

"Nobody will go for it."

"We're under Martial Law. Until elections the Law is whatever we—that is, the Ministry and specifically those that have to enforce the law—say it is. We're not going to give them a bleeding choice in the matter," I said grimly. "I need you to—"

"You need? You need? What about what I need?" Tonks snapped, her hair grew wild, long, and turned an angry crimson as she came out of her seat so fast it clattered to the floor behind her. "You drag me and my son off to some evil bastard's quarters without asking. You come in making plans and telling me all the things you've started, well bully for you!"

She was screaming now. Pure rage. If her wand wasn't still in her bedside cabinet I'd be frightened. As it was there was enough raw power pouring off her that the hairs on the back of my neck were bristling.

"My husband is dead and you won't even let me bury him peace! You don't have a fucking clue what it feels like to lose—"

She froze. Very slowly her hand went up to her hair and she pulled a strand around so that she could see it. Just as slowly she sank back down and I was only just fast enough to magic her chair upright before she sat down on the floor.

Teddy's face turned red as he began wailing, and the color crept up and into his hair.

"Oh," Tonks said softly as her hair turn a dull mousy brown. "Oh Merlin, Harry, I…you didn't deserve that. I…you lost Ginny, didn't you?"

I nodded.

"It…it still doesn't seem real."

"No," I said softly and held my godson as he cried. "It doesn't."

I held the plush werewolf over him and he instantly quieted down and grabbed for the tail.

"You didn't have that already…did you?" she asked.

"Transfigured it, McGonagall was impressed," I said. I looked up at her, "I was planning on getting Remus a complete set, a stag, a black dog, and a werewolf, when Ted was born, but I never got a chance."

"It looks like him," she said softly. "He wanted me to see. I think he wanted to try and scare me off, show me the monster I was marrying. Did you mean for that to happen?"

I nodded.

"When did you…see him like that?"

"My third year," I said. "We'd just captured Pettigrew and found out about Sirius. We were coming back to the castle. He started to transform, and Wormtail transformed into a rat, and the dementors attacked, and it got kind of confusing for a while."

"He wouldn't let me watch," Tonks said.

"It…wasn't pleasant, and not because he hadn't drunk his potion that night," I said. "Listening to Hermione get tortured was harder, but not much." Mostly because she was my friend and a few special lessons aside I hardly new Remus when that happened.

Neither of us spoke for a while after that.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked finally.

"Go to the Ministry, find out how big a mess it is," I said. "We have to hunt down the Death Eaters and clean house, or at least get started on both, before we can think about any of the other problems. Kingsley's giving me Percy."

"Weasley?" she asked unhappily.

"Sic him on the paperwork," I said. "I've got a couple of other people I want as well. Is there some supply department where I can get them, or do I have to fill out paperwork?"

"Let me see your badge."

"My badge?" I asked.

She nodded. "Aurors of a certain rank can make temporary shields using their own. That way they can enlist people if they need a few extra bodies for a take down or if they need someone with special skills like a Cursebreaker."

I pulled out my badge in its wallet and slid it across the table to her.

She opened it and whistled. "Shack doesn't do things by halves, does he?"

"What do you mean?"

She turned to holder around. On one side was my brand-new Senior Auror shield. On the other was an ID card complete with a little three-dimensional figure of me hovering over one corner, instead of the picture that muggle IDs, or even most wizarding ones, used. Tonks pointed to a line. "Auror-Commander."

"Huh I thought I was a Senior Auror ," I said.

"As I said, Shack doesn't do things by halves."

"Not following, Tonks."

She shook her head. "There are only three shields. Provisional Auror, Auror, Senior Auror. It cuts down on the number of different shields, which helps make them easier to recognize for the civilians and cheaper for us, and three ranks are easer to banter around in the field than full rank-titles. Everyone above Auror-Sergeant gets a Senior shield. Aurors through Auror-Sergeants get Auror shields. People who have passed through the training but haven't completed their fieldwork assignment get Provisional Auror shields."

"And Auror-Commander is fairly high?" I asked.

"Remember, our manning and table of organization were written when it seemed like Grindelwald was going to invade and then we had to help deal with him when he didn't," she said. "Our levels went up again when He showed up, but Fudge drew our manning levels way down. Below what they were even before Grindelwald."

"So?" I asked.

"According to the TO each of the four region commands, which correspond roughly to England, Ireland, Wales, and Scotland, are led by an Auror-Commander. The Isle of Man falls under Ireland which isn't split like it is in the muggle world. Each Commander is supposed to have six Auror-Captains, one for each of four six-hour watches, plus two so that everyone has time off in a rotating basis."

I nodded.

"Each Watch has a number of Auror-Lieutenants, each leading a task force—border patrol, emergency tactical response, and so on. Each Task Force would have a number of Patrols led by Auror-Sergeants or Auror-Corporals, and the number of patrols and their size would vary by job, situation, location.

"At the top of the organization, the Chief of Aurors, would hold the rank of Auror-General. But in addition to that there were staffs, for example each region had an Auror-Captain—actually called an Auror-Major to separate him from the 'working' captains—who served as the Auror-Commander's exec. Other admin and staffing personnel, of course, specialty personnel like Cursebreakers and Healers, some people on loan from the Magical Investigation Bureau for investigating crime scenes…all of whom were addressed as 'Auror' as a courtesy.

"Plus there were a bunch of independent Patrols and Task Forces. The Royals had their own security section led by an Auror-Captain, I believe, and Kingsley led a temporary one when he was put in charge of the search for Sirius."

"I take it that ranks are pretty much inflated?" I said. If pay was proportional to rank (I couldn't think of any good reason why it wouldn't be, but since the wizarding world often seemed to do things with an absence of good reasons I wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't the case) it'd make things difficult for me if I needed to strip a bunch of people of their rank. Especially since something like that tends to follow people around.

"No, actually," Tonks said. "Fudge wanted to keep ranks down because it was cheaper that way. Amelia and Rufus both wanted ranks kept down for their own reasons, and they would use it as a bargaining chip when they wanted or needed something else funded instead. I don't think Rufus was ever more than Auror-Lieutenant. I know Constance Hammers was made an Auror-Captain just before she transferred to LEPRecon and he took over. Kingsley was only an Auror-Sergeant, but he was brevetted to Auror-Lieutenant during the search for Sirius."

"Brevetted?"

"He was given the rank, but it was only a temporary 'acting' rank, and he only got the pay of an Auror-Sergeant."

And now he was the interim Minister of Magic.

"So unless you transferred to a different department, there wasn't a lot of opportunity for promotion?" I asked.

"Not really, why? Worried about someone trying for your job?" she asked. "Or is it about money."

"Money, mostly," I said. "I'm not worried about myself, the Potters were fairly well off, even with Mum and Dad and their friends living off their savings, and Sirius…" I stopped and gave a half-hearted shrug.

Tonks nodded morosely. "Yeah, I remember that. I was surprised at the reading of the Will. I didn't think he had that much gold."

"I, that is, we, got a lot of Dumbledore's notes after he died," I said. "After they locked Sirius away his mother changed her tune. Seemed to think he had been plotting since before starting school to get close to the blood-traitors and their ilk. Voldemort may have been defeated by an infant, but her son had clearly shown his heart was in the right place and gone to prison for it, and taken out a bunch of muggles and another one of those would-be 'heroes' in the progress. Since Regulus was dead she passed the Black wealth onto him."

"Yeah, that'd sound about right, given what I know of her," Tonks agreed. "Though I'm surprised she didn't pass it off to Bellatrix or Narcissa."

"She didn't want Lucius getting his hands on the Black Library," I said. "She actually spelled that out in her Will, and with Bellatrix firmly in Azkaban and without issue, not that Sirius wasn't in the same position…"

"And she despised Mum for marrying a muggle-born," Tonks finished. "As for our pay, it isn't just a matter of rank. There are pay increases for time-in-grade which are fairly generous. There are also pay bonuses for things like hazardous duty, or serving at Azkaban as one of the wizard guards, or part of the broom patrol, and things like that. How much extra depends on the specific assignment or assignments, and they're paid by the month. And finally there are merit bonuses that you can get for helping to take down a particularly dangerous dark wizard, or destroy a particular dark artifact."

Tonks pushed her plate aside and considered the fruit-bowl. She probably had as little interest as I did in eating. I'd learned the hard way to eat when I had the chance, it was something that between Hogwarts' meals and Molly Weasley's cooking I'd forgotten. Almost a year on the run had reminded me of those lessons, and it seemed like Tonks had learned them too at some point…or maybe it was just the potion.

"I keep forgetting how much you don't know," she muttered. "Shacklebolt must have been out of his mind when he offered you the job."

"Do you think he's deliberately setting me up to fail?"

She looked up at me startled. "Never mind, I was talking to myself."

"My question remains," I said coolly. I was sick and tired of people keeping things from me. If she thought Kingsley was setting me up I wanted to know.

"No," she said. "I just, okay, I get hiring you as an Auror. We need numbers. But put you in charge? Okay, you can handle yourself in a fight, but do you know anything about tracking and stealth?"

"You were worst in your class?" I offered.

She smiled weakly and the tips of her hair turned pink for a moment before returning to brown. "Besides that?"

"I have an invisibility cloak, and practice with both the disillusionment charm, and the polyjuice potion."

"Bill and Fleur's wedding, I'd forgotten that."

"And second year."

Tonks looked at me askance, "You used polyjuice in your second year?"

"We thought Malfoy, Draco, knew something about the Chamber of Secrets and decided that infiltrating the Slytherin common room was the best way," I said defensively.

"And that worked?" she asked.

"If you mean, did we ask him and not get caught out? Then yes," I said. "If you mean, did he actually know something? Then no."

Tonks started to ask something else, but paused and frowned slightly. "Hermione?"

"She always was the most gifted witch in my year," I said. "She also found out why that potion is rated for human use only."

"What did she turn into?" she asked with a glimmer of a familiar gleam in her eyes.

"Cat," I said. It was good to see some of her usual humor leak through.

Teddy chose that moment to stop slobbering on the werewolf toy and look up at me before sneezing violently and turning his hair violet.

"He's getting good at that," Tonks said.

"I think his hair is functioning like a muggle mood-ring," I said. "You can pretty much tell how he's feeling by the color of his hair." I passed him to her and once he was settled in her arms his hair promptly turned a bubblegum pink. "See?"

She looked down at her son and smiled before looking back up at me. "I didn't say anything earlier but…thank you," she said softly, "For…well, everything."

"It wasn't any trouble, Tonks," I said. "As soon as I have a grasp on what's going on and things have settled down, take a few days off. Just…" I hesitated, how was I supposed to tell her that I wouldn't hold it against her (as much as I might want to) if she took off and did what I so desperately wanted to do. "If you happen across Dolohov, just promise me that you won't try to take him alone?"

She looked at me in surprise, then down at Teddy before back up at me. A glimmer of understanding passed through her eyes before she nodded. "I promise."

I wonder if she thought I made her promise because of Teddy, or because I wanted to tell Kingsley to go screw himself and take off after them by myself. In the end it didn't really matter.

I stood, "I need a shower. I'll go talk to Percy before coming in. I suppose since I'm talking over I need to make some kind of speech."

Tonks grimaced.

"My thoughts exactly. Don't bother having anyone come in if they're off doing something important and…" facing down a Dark Lord over a stupid stone, or going off to chase Horcruxes suddenly sounded really appealing.

"Shit," I sighed. "Tonks, I don't have a fucking clue as to what I'm supposed to be doing. I mean, okay, sure, I faced down Voldemort more times than anyone else alive or dead. But how does that translate to having to run a whole office filled with people whose job is to do just that?"

"Well," she said standing up. "I suppose you're just going to have to learn. I suggest doing it quickly."

"Thanks," I muttered.

"It wasn't any trouble," she parroted back at me. "I'll, uh, drop Teddy off at my mum's."

"Okay," I said as I stood. "Just remember, if you need any help, ask." So far I had avoided Severus' personal rooms, his store room, library, personal lab, and bedroom, but I knew the loo off the small kitchen didn't have a shower which meant the one in the guest room, or the one in Severus' room. Some choice.

"Harry?" Tonks asked as I reached for the doorknob of Severus' room.

"Yeah?"

"Our last safe-house was compromised just before the, er, battle," Tonks said. "Would you mind terribly if…" she gestured at the guest room. "It'll only be until I can get my own place again."

"Sure, not a problem," I said. "The portrait outside is in the first-level dungeons, and is of a woman with red hair holding a python. The password is 'Lilium'. The floo is restricted to calls and the school's internal floo-network. To the best of my knowledge the only floo-travel-enabled fireplace in the school is in the Headmaster's office."

There was a small nook between two bookcases where a niche was carved into the wall. A crystal vase sat in it, inside of which was a fire lily. Lilium bulbiferum had been covered in both herbology and divination as a non-magical plant, with some magical properties—sort of like how a four-leaf clover is a non-magical plant, but brings inordinate good luck to whoever finds one (though not on the scale of Felix Felicis). I wondered if Mum knew it was a death symbol before it was her favorite flower.

That thought made me pause. I knew Severus was a paranoid recluse (though not on the scale of Moody) which is how I knew how heavily warded his rooms were. But even if I did know where his rooms were, I shouldn't have known the password or that this lily—

"Harry?"

"Sorry, had a thought," I said, and it wasn't entirely a lie. I'd obviously picked up some things from Severus' memories that I didn't recall actually seeing. So far nothing bad had happened, but the wards should have fried me to a crisp the moment I stepped in. Either he'd added me to his wards before his death, or…

I frowned, there was an 'or' there, but 'or what', was the question. I shook my head, it wasn't important now.

"Come over here," I said.

"Fire lily," Tonks said eyeing the flower. It had been encased in pure diamond, I wasn't entirely sure how except that it involved a couple of potions, but it had. "We keep an eye out for death symbols," she added.

And she had been mentored by no less than Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody. There was a five-inch moving picture of him next to the entry for 'Paranoia' in the dictionary.

"It was my Mum's favorite flower," I said. "It's also the anchor for the wards to these rooms." I pulled a collapsible knife out of my pocket. Spending a year camping had taught me how incredibly useful a couple inches of plain, unenchanted, sharpened steel could be.

"You have to prick a finger and donate a little blood," I said.

"Blood recognition," Tonks said, "sensitive wards." She frowned, "When did you get added?"

I shrugged, "Before he died, I guess."

"I thought he hated you."

"'Hate' doesn't begin to do his feelings justice," I said. "To Severus I was the living proof of every mistake he made from the time he first entered Hogwarts as a student to the time he first entered as a professor."

"Every mistake?" she asked.

As good as it was to hear some of the familiar curiosity in her voice I really didn't want to talk about it yet. "I'll need to tell the story sometime, he deserves that much," I said, "but I'm not ready to do it yet."

She nodded and took the knife. A prick on the finger, some blood smeared across a diamond-covered leaf, and it was done. I felt the wards welcome her, then welcome Teddy, and the blood disappeared.

"They jumped to Teddy as well," Tonks said. "Do you think, would he have, er, added your mother to them?"

Mum and Severus had long parted ways by the time he was accepted here as a teacher. In fact, I was pretty sure that she was dead first, though it was possible that he may have started two months before that Halloween night. "He might have," I said, then added softly, "he probably had more reason to add her than me."

Tonks and Teddy were long gone by the time I'd gotten out of the shower. Winky had gotten my best fitting Hogwarts robe, laundered it, and had it hanging on the door of the bathroom when I was done. It wasn't until I was trying, and failing, to get my hair to lay neatly when I noticed that the badges that had marked me as a member of Gryffindor house and Quidditch team captain had been removed, leaving the robes feeling incomplete.

Story of my bloody (both figuratively and literally) life.

I tucked my wand and badge away and made a mental note to get new toiletries and more clothes. Preferably something that fits in colors other than black. No, I'd at least one more thing in black, a formal dress robe. And at some point I was going to have to go through Severus' things—Merlin knows I'm the closest thing he has to a family that's left (and wouldn't Sirius die of laughter if he ever heard me say that?)—but not today.

A hundred and one things to do before I could go to the Ministry. I didn't even want to have to go to the Ministry. I should have told Shaklebolt to go find someone else's life to screw up. Unfortunately I hadn't and he deserved to be told to find someone else in person. Hell, Tonks deserved to be told I'd had second thoughts in person…right after I granted her request for leave.

But I couldn't go right to the Ministry either, now could I? I had another stop to make. I didn't want to make it. Making it meant facing the closest thing to a family I had. It meant having to think about…her. I wasn't ready to do that. Sirius' death had been like a bludgeoning curse to the gut and even yard work hadn't been enough to keep the nightmares away. Gi—her death was going to be worse, and I didn't want to go through it again.

Yes, I was avoiding the issue. Call me a coward, but I was.

Instead I went to the dungeons.

Hogwarts' dungeons don't deserve the name. I've been in dungeons, real dungeons. Dark, and dank, and cold, with stone floors that sap the warmth from your body and stone walls that echo the pain and misery that's happened in their chambers long after those imprisoned are dead. Hogwarts' dungeons (as little as they deserve the name, I don't have a better one) are warm, well-lit, and I highly doubt that any torturing other than the schoolyard bully kind has ever happened in them. Not until last year at any rate, but according to the DA most of the torturing went on in the (Defense Against the) Dark Arts classroom.

The Slytherin common room was hidden behind a blank wall in one of the first floor dungeons (if you suffer from insomnia and don't mind the décor all three levels of Hogwarts' dungeons are custom-made for your wandering delight). I didn't know the password, and I doubt it'd open if I asked. I wasn't about to sit back and toss passwords at it until one worked. But then, I didn't need to.

One of the stones was cracked. Not uncommon, exactly, but if you looked at it just right…

"Open."

The door ground open.

Slytherin was sparsely occupied with people that didn't have other places to go. (Most of the snakes opted out of the fight or joined Voldemort. Couldn't say I blamed them, it wasn't like the rest of us ever made them feel particularly welcome).

"Malfoy?" I asked.

A couple of people gestured to one side.

I could see where the halls led to the dormitories, one for boys, the other for girls. It was a dark, wet (we were under the lake as one large window showed) mirror of Gryffindor Tower. Better view of the lake, worse view of the Quidditch Pitch. Probably was pretty nice when it got hot but I wouldn't open the windows hoping for a breeze.

I walked over to where they had pointed. A picture of someone (a witch) in Slytherin green hung on the wall giving the common room a vaguely disapproving look. I looked and found a small grass snake hiding in one corner of the painting.

"Open."

The painting swung wide.

I was sensing a theme going on. It'd be just like what little I knew of Salazar Slytherin for him to have his own set of private passages that led throughout the entire school all guarded by little snakes that only he and his heirs (and one Gryffindor) could use. Too bad I hadn't found out about this earlier.

I climbed up the stairs that led to the Slytherin head-students common room. It was unusual for both heads to come from the same house (as my parents had), but it'd happened so each House had a common room that was shared by a pair of dormitories for the head boy and girl, with corridors leading to different areas so that members of all the Houses could reach them. The internal geometry was confusing, but then Hogwarts had never been particularly sane in that regard and one was better off ignoring minor inconsistencies like that. It looked like Draco and his parents had claimed the entire Slytherin suite.

The three Malfoys were clustered together in chairs near the fire. All three looked up when I walked in, and none of the three looked like they expected to see me.

"Potter," Narcissa said coolly.

"How'd you get up here, past the password and wards?" Draco asked.

"I'm Harry Potter," I said blankly.

Draco smiled a tight little smile. "Nice try."

I smirked. Not exactly a skill I've had a lot of practice with, but after six years of his sneers and smirks I should be an expert. "Do you remember our second year?"

Draco frowned, then snorted. "You aren't the bloody Heir of Slytherin, Potter. Even I knew that when I started that crack."

"Yeah, well," I smirked. "You know all those little snakes that are hiding in pictures and carvings all around the school?"

Draco stopped. Total stillness. Very creepy if I hadn't seen someone creepier.

"That sink in Myrtle's bathroom, the one you were…sitting on when you were talking to her?" I pressed. I could have been more accurate about where he was and what he was doing, but I wanted, needed his help. Humiliating him in front of his parents wouldn't help me get that. "If you noticed there was a little brass serpent on the cold water knob, on a sink that has never worked."

"What are you getting at, Potter?" Lucius demanded, standing up.

"I'm a parcelmouth," I said. "I speak the words, and the path appears. Whether it's up here…or down in the Chamber of Secrets."

Lucius paled slightly.

"Why are you here, Potter?" Draco asked.

"Two reasons," I told him, then turned to Lucius. "Your wife and I made a deal. You and Draco get a walk for being Death Eaters. If you want, I'll let it stand at that. If you give me your word, no twisting words, no trying to double your way out of it, that you'll give your full and complete cooperation in hunting down and prosecuting your old friends, I'll give you my word that you'll never be charged for your past crimes."

"And if I decline?" he asked.

"Then when my investigations start I'll make sure that you won't be charged with being a Death Eater, supporting Voldemort, and the like," I said. "I'm sure there are enough other charges waiting. Aiding and abetting fugitives from the law, torture, murder, conspiracy, treason…"

"Treason?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You did help lead a coup against Her Majesty's Government," I said. "Even if I'm willing to be generous and not charge you with anything since Voldemort's rebirth there is still the issue of the little riot you started at the World Cup, not to mention attempted murder and dealing in Forbidden objects."

He chuckled, "Even I recognize that there are practical limits on the Dark Arts, Mister Potter. There is little useful to be found in those which are Forbidden."

I smiled, "You know, I wondered if you knew or not."

He faltered. "Knew what?"

"Knew what the diary of Tom Riddle's really was."

"Tom Riddle?" Draco asked.

I draw a wand, my wand, and his eyes went wide. I didn't blame him, he thought the wand was snapped. I drew Voldemort's real name in the air in the same burning letters a figment of him had once used. "Tom Marvolo Riddle, Son of Merope Gaunt, daughter of Marvolo Gaunt. Merope fell in love with a muggle named Tom Riddle, obsessed about him really, ensnared him with a love potion, and was kicked out of her family for it. When she became pregnant she stopped supply love potions and he abandoned her.

"She lived just long enough to give him up to an orphanage and give him a name. Tom for his father, Marvolo for hers." I swished my wand through the letters and they rearranged. "I am Lord Voldemort, an anagram of Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Lucius' eyes were wide.

"You didn't know that either."

"Stop being secretive, Potter, you aren't good at it," Draco said.

"You know a lot about the Dark Arts, Draco," I said with a smirk. "Your mother and Aunts had access to the Black library which has one of the most extensive collections of works on the subject in Europe, if not the world. I would be sorely disappointed if the Malfoy collection was not as good; and you studied under Severus Snape who knew more about the Dark Arts than most of the people who bore the same mark you do, and that's saying something.

"Have you ever heard of something called a Horcrux?"

Narcissa made a shocked noise, sort of like a dying bird cutoff in mid-cry. Lucius' skin turned an unhealthy pasty color, sort of like undercooked porridge. He groped around behind him for his chair and sunk heavily into it. Even when he'd begged his master's forgiveness, or pleaded for Draco's continued well-being he maintained an aristocratic flair. Now it was crumbling into a sickly silence.

Draco frowned. "No," he said. "But it seems as though my parents have."

"It's a way of surviving past death," I said. "You have to split you soul, you see, and put it into an object. It isn't really effective. Even if you die it traps you as less of a ghost."

"But the Dark Lord found a way to make it work," Draco said. "He can't have been the first one."

"It isn't so simple to split your soul, Draco," Lucius said. "Cold-blooded murder, not an act of rage or passion, or defense, or even attack, is the easiest. You have to…destroy something pure, without any more cause than that you can."

"Makes sense to go for babies then," Draco said.

I shook my head. "Not physical purity, emotional purity," I said. "Or maybe innocence would be a better word."

Lucius nodded slightly, "Precisely." He turned back to Draco, "Even that will only…tear the soul. Once that is done it is necessary to rip a portion off and emplace it in the vessel that is meant to hold it."

"And if something happens to the object with your soul in it. Your anchor in this world goes bye-bye," I finished.

"Not if you hide it well enough," Draco argued. "Give it to someone you trust."

I smirked. "That's what he did." I looked at Lucius. "Twice, in fact, though he didn't tell either of them what it was he entrusted to their protection."

"I don't—" Lucius stopped. "The journal." It came out in a flat hiss.

"Possessing a Horcrux is grounds for a date with a dementor," I said. "No appeal. That little prank you pulled, slipping Ginny Weasley that diary, got her possessed. It nearly killed her, myself, a half-dozen other students, and brought Voldemort back."

"You're wrong," Draco snapped suddenly. "If it was one of these Horcrux things the Dark Lord would never have been able to come back when it was destroyed."

"Finish the thought, Draco," I said.

He glared at me.

I rolled my eyes. "Despite what you like people to think, Draco, when you aren't being a git, buying your way into the Seeker position on your House team, playing the pureblood prince of Slytherin, muttering about what's going to happen when 'father hears about this', or being an insufferable prat, you actually are fairly smart."

"I did not buy—"

"Your father bought then, or bribed, more accurately," I said.

Draco nodded, "Just so that we're all saying things like they are."

"So. 'If it was one of the Horcrux things…'" I prodded.

"It either wasn't a Horcrux at all, or he'd done something else so that he still lived…spirited, whatever," Draco said. "Or…he had more than one."

"Bravo, Mr. Malfoy," I said. "Ten points to Slytherin."

"How," Lucius was looking practically green. "How many?"

"Did he intend to make?" I asked.

"Seven pieces then, including the one inside himself. A magically powerful number," Lucius said.

I shrugged. "Your call, Mr. Malfoy."

"It seems as though I have little choice," Lucius said. "How do I know that you are capable of amnestying me for my past?"

"You don't," I smirked. "You have my word and have to be content with that."

He looked ready to reject the terms but Narcissa put a hand on his arm. For a moment the muscles in his jaw worked, and he was probably going to need to see a Healer to replace the enamel his was wearing away (one did not spend seven years with Hermione Granger without learning more about dentistry and oral hygiene than any sane person wanted to know), but he nodded curtly.

"One more thing," I said. "You have a clean slate as of right now, provided you uphold your end of things. You do not want me to ever have cause to suspect you of committing a crime again. Understood?"

"Clearly."

"Good." I turned to Draco. "Now my second point of business. Draco, let's go for a little walk."

Draco looked at his parents, then stood and followed after me.

We left the Slytherin Common room and I started leading him aimlessly down wandering corridors. Draco wasn't my enemy. As much as I'd hated him before he never really amounted to more than an annoyance until sixth year, well, maybe fifth year. I still didn't like him, but I hoped I could work with him. I needed him. How sad was that?

"Where are we going, Potter?"

I paused. The course I was taking looked aimless, random, but really it'd be designed to thwart Prefect patrols. I never had told Hermione and Ron how badly I'd been sleeping in fifth and sixth year. It was so bad that sometimes, okay, a lot of the time, I hadn't even pretended to sleep.

Draco did not look at all happy to be back up here. I didn't blame him. I just walked over to the edge and sat in one of the hollows made by the battlements and let one leg hang over the edge.

"If you die what's to stop Shacklebolt from throwing Father and Mother in Azkaban?"

"Nothing," I said. "Which is one the reasons why I trust you not to curse me in the back. The least of them, actually."

"Oh yeah? Tell me another."

"Well, for one thing I'm Harry Potter. I've survived the killing curse, is a little fall going to stop me? Or is there enough time for me to cast a feather-light charm or a cushioning charm and save myself? Or will I twist in mid-air and cast a curse that'll bring down the Astronomy Tower with you in it?" I said.

Draco didn't reply.

I didn't want to speak first. Let him come to me.

Screw it, silence means time to think. Time to think means thinking about…

"You should have known better," I said. "The Nimbus 2001 was a lousy broom for a Seeker. It has an edge on the 2000 in acceleration, but it's even in top speed and it jus isn't maneuverable enough. It's a great broom for a Chaser, or maybe a Beater who wants more speed instead of a more stable platform, but not a Seeker."

Draco sighed, "I did try to tell him. It was that advert about Ireland going to an all-Firebolt lineup."

"Advertising," I snorted. "The Firebolt is over-powered for a Keeper's broom and not really a stable enough platform to make a really great Beater's broom. It's why I'll never play professional. Too many years on an overly-fast broom compared to the people I was playing. I got too comfortable to letting the broom carry the game."

"Too many years as a Seeker on my part," Draco said. "I wanted to beat you so bad for the way you spurned me in the train before first year."

"The Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin."

"You?" Draco asked surprised.

"I was raised Muggle," I said. "My relatives, well, suffice to say that they could be held up as prime examples of everything Voldemort believed about them."

"Must you say that name?"

I ignored him. "You managed to insult the man who brought me away from them, and the first friend I ever had."

"Why did you even go to them? I mean, a wizard with your name…people would have had a fit if they'd found out where Dumbledore had stashed you."

"I had a lot of his notes and a lot of time to read them over the last year," I said. "There were blood wards. Voldemort had given my Mum a chance to stand aside—" as a chance to reward Snape "—and she refused so he killed her. That was a powerful piece of old magic—" right out of C.S. Lewis' magic from 'before the dawn of time' (I never was able to come up with an explanation for some of the books on Dudley's shelf considering the Dursleys' disdain for anything not 'normal') "—that caused the killing curse to bounce and, well..." I shrugged. "Voldemort himself couldn't touch me behind them, much less one of his followers."

Draco was silent for a moment. "Why did you let yourself get cursed like that?"

"I'm not sure if you were aware, but there was a prophecy in play," not exactly a big secret any more. "Voldemort got the first part, the one that told of who could defeat him. The choices were me or Neville. Odd that he thought the halfblood was a greater threat than the pureblood, don't you think?"

"Longbottom?" he snorted.

"He didn't get the rest of it though," I continued. "…and he shall mark him as his equal." I twisted to look and Draco and pushed my hair aside so that my damned scar was visible. "This little thing is a lot more than a mere facial disfiguration, Draco."

Draco went white. If he'd been any paler he'd be practically see-through.

"There's another part too, about how neither can live while the other survives. Old Magic, mostly because of Mum again. Only he could kill me, but, ironically, as long as I lived he couldn't die, even if all the Horcrux's were destroyed. Since I saw to that before he killed me he was nice and mortal again."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Sooner or later someone was going to take another swing at him or get lucky. Even if they didn't, he's still die of old age, if nothing else, and Dark Arts are hard on the body."

"Exactly."

"That doesn't explain why we're up here."

"No, I don't suppose it does," I said.

I was willing to leave it at that for a while and watch the grounds below.

Draco wasn't.

"Why are we here, Potter."

"I think that you were just a little boy, talking the talk of the big, bad, Death-Eater-to-Be who suddenly found himself over his head when he got called on it and had to walk the walk. All that talk of getting rid of the mudbloods and blood traitors, of torturing and killing muggles sounded pretty neat, but the reality was something else. You found reality to be something that you didn't want a part in but didn't see a way out except to grope for any line that came your way—six years of classes together and you weren't sure if it was me or not, my arse."

Draco's cheeks turned pink. Embarrassment or anger, or both. Ron had the same reaction only his ears turned scarlet. I had to remember to mention that if they were ever in the same place together. Finding out they had something in common would probably give them both heart attacks.

"Don't be so surprised. You think you're the first person Voldemort pulled into his little band of sycophants who found that themselves in over their head?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said with a straight face and even tone.

"Dragon-shit," I said. "You liked playing the little Death Muncher, but when it came time to be the real deal you didn't have a clue. I don't know what you were thinking with the cursed opal necklace you got from Borgin and Burkes—" he started and I smirked at him. "You didn't think I knew where they came from?" I asked.

"No," he said stiffly.

"Summer before our second year you stopped there with your father to sell some things Lucius didn't want to be found in the possession of. That's when you saw the disappearing cabinet there, one of two you needed to get the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. It's also where you found the necklace and the hand of glory you used."

For a moment, a split second so fast that if I hadn't been watching for it I'd have missed it, Draco looked as if he had stepped onto one of the many trick steps on Hogwarts' many staircases. Then it was gone once more, behind that polite, but utterly blank mask that made him look like a miniature version of his father.

"And the mead…Draco, you had to know what Slughorn is like. You had to know that Christmas or not the chances of him giving it to Dumbledore were slim. Yet you went ahead and did it anyway."

"The Dark Lord's orders were precise. Find a way for the Death Eaters to enter the school, and kill Dumbledore. I tried that twice—"

"Three times," I said. This time a spark of fear appeared in his eyes and stayed there. "Only you couldn't do that either, could you? Disarm him, yes. Kill a man without a wand? No."

"Severus?" he asked. "Did he tell—"

"No," I said, "but he did it for you. Dumbledore always said that he trusted him with his life…he trusted him with his death too. Lucky you Voldemort always equated 'defeat' with 'kill' or he'd have killed you instead."

"I don't understand," he said.

The admission had to cost him. It couldn't not have, even if he didn't let it show.

"I know," I said. "Maybe you will, in time."

Draco bristled. Two years ago, hell, six months ago, he'd have probably taken a swing since he didn't have his wand. Instead he simply crossed his arms and waited. "Why did you bring me up here? You obviously know what happened."

"I brought you up here because both Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape thought that there was something in you that was worth saving," I said. "Personally I don't see it, but I'm willing to give you a chance to prove them right."

Draco crossed his arms and sneered, "You could have just given me the same ultimatum you gave Father and spared me the drama."

"True," I said. "If I was going to do so." This time he didn't try to hide the surprise on his face. "And you will do so, or else, so consider it given. However, you have a choice."

"A choice?"

Oooh, I'd gotten him to parrot back what I'd said. Very nice. "A choice. You can leave it at that, or…"

"Or?" he parroted curiously.

Ah, there was the Draco I knew and loathed. Offer him a puzzle and he would be annoying as hell until he thought he knew the answer, at which point he'd come to gloat.

I stood up and flipped him a small leather folder. "I have a job offer for you."

Draco looked at the leather folder for a moment, then opened it. "An Auror shield?"

"Look again."

"Provisional Auror, big bloody difference," he shrugged. "They picked a funny person to make the pitch. Probably hope I'd refuse."

"Kingsley Shacklebolt made me Chief of Aurors," I said.

"You?" he asked with wide eyes.

"Me," I said.

His eyes narrowed and he sneered his customary sneer, but it was a habitual action, not malicious. "You know he's using you as a figure head."

"The thought occurred to me," I lied. Despite what people think I am capable of lying when I really, really had to. "Frankly it doesn't matter why he did it. He did, and there's no way unless I bugger things up that he's going to remove me. The Prophet would have a field day with him if he tried."

He nodded. "A point. Why me? And don't tell me it's all because of Dumbledore and Uncle Severus."

Uncle? Probably just because Severus was friends with the elder Malfoy—if it could be called that. "Because most wizards and witches lack common sense and logic the same way muggles lack magic," I said. "You, on the other hand, take something Montague said, couple it with a cabinet at a store in Knockturn alley, and come up with a way of sneaking Death Eaters into the school."

"I won't be your sycophant."

I rolled my eyes. How someone could be so observant one moment and blind the next I'm sure I'll never know. It was like someone had distilled the worst aspects of Ron and Hermione. "I don't want minions, Draco, I want you to do the bloody job. I'd like it if you toned down the git, but that might be expecting too much from you."

Draco snorted. "And yet you give me a shield you can take away with a word."

"The shield is provisional, for now, yes," I said. "Check the folio, the ID clearly says your rank is Auror, not Provisional Auror. I strongly suggest you get a new ID made, the old one still has you in your Death Eater robes."

To my surprise he simply nodded and put the folder away. "I suppose you don't want me to tell Father and Mother."

"It's your life, Draco," I said. "As long as you do the job and play by the rules I don't really care."

For a moment he stared at me as though he didn't know what to do, finally he shrugged. "Thank you, Potter."

I'm not sure which of us was more surprised at the words. He recovered first and turned and headed for the door.

"Draco?"

He stopped.

"There is one more thing," I said.

He turned back to me and I held out a wand. His wand. The wand he had used to best Dumbledore, and I had used to defeat Voldemort.

"My wand?" he asked. "It's yours by right of conquest," he said uncertainly.

"You need a wand, this one fits you," I said, then added snidely: "I am allowed to return it, aren't I?"

"Yes, but…" he shook his head. "Merlin, you really don't know what you're saying by doing this, do you?" he asked taking it.

"Nope," I said cheerfully.

The Burrow looked pretty much the way I remembered. Sections of the low garden walls looked cleaner and out of place, evidence of repair work rather than a partly-done cleaning exercise. The chickens still pecked in the dirt of their coop, but there were fewer of them than I remembered. The broom shed was to the left of the field the Weasleys' used for pickup games of Quidditch and family weddings, but I was sure it had been to the right of the field before. The house looked more dilapidated than I remembered, but there wasn't any obvious damage.

I felt the tingle of the perimeter ward as I walked up the path to the front door, but this was the closest place I'd ever come to having a family and home and it didn't try to stop me. It did, however, warn someone inside (or maybe someone had just been watching the path and alerted everyone) because Weasleys began to pour out of the house before I reached the porch.

We didn't say anything. They sort of clustered on the porch looking at me, and I stood on the path looking at them. My mouth went dry and my tongue felt thick, and I couldn't think of anything to say. I wanted to just turn around and walk away, but I couldn't do that anymore than I could not have come here.

"Hullo, Harry," George said.

I winced. The absence of Fred was a worse mutilation than the loss of his ear. They were the Twins. Together the two of them were the greatest pair of beaters Gryffindor had seen in years. Student and teacher had treaded cautiously lest their next footstep trigger one of the Twins' many pranks. They were like peas and carrots, peanut butter and jelly, Jekyll and Hyde… Seeing one without the other was so…so utterly wrong that there weren't words to describe it.

"Hey," I managed in reply.

The single word broke the spell that had kept them on the porch and me on the path and Molly came rushing down the front steps to wrap me up in one of her big hugs all while crying. I'd been worried that they were going to bring up Sirius, or more likely, her. Instead I found myself back in fifth year confronted by a crying Cho Chang.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't blame Cho for how she felt (though it made things awkward as hell) and for not handling Ced's death well. I mean, I didn't handle it well. I had nightmares, but they all centered on Voldemort being back. Cedric's part in them was…incidental. To me Cedric had been a friendly competitor, someone it was fun to play against but not an especially close friend. I don't think I really understood that until I lost Sirius, at which point I suddenly understood Cho as well. It was also when I realized that I was treating Cedric's loss like it was a secondary issue, that it didn't even matter compared to Voldemort.

I was wrong, of course. It mattered just as much as, and in some ways more than, Voldemort. I'd had more than one close encounter with Voldemort's mind. Not caring about a person, treating them like they're of a secondary importance, was the way he treated everyone, not just muggles and muggle-borns.

Besides, there is a shortage of friendly competitors in the world. It was a shame to lose one as fine as Cedric.

Hermione wedged her way between us and Molly turned and grabbed onto Arthur.

"Hey," Ron said, articulate as ever.

"Ron," I said as Hermione let me go.

"How are you?" Hermione asked gently.

"Fine," I said. I was too. Actually, I was following Severus' screwed up advice. Don't think about the emotional bullshit, just put it all away and focus on keeping the world from destroying itself. As long as I kept it all nice and distant I was good to go, let's here it for repressing how we feel.

"Harry," Hermione said. She was always too good at reading me.

"I have to talk to you and Ron later," I said before she could start.

Ron picked up what she didn't and put his arm casually around her shoulder and nodded. "I think we'll go wander back to the pond."

Gi— she always liked the pond.

Hermione started to protest, but Ron shook his head and led her away. We've all of us changed. Of all of us, Ron for the most.

"Harry," Arthur said softly.

"Mr. Weasley," I said and at his look winced. "Sorry, Arthur."

He nodded.

"About the arraignments for Gi—" the word was ash in my mouth but I forced my voice to remain level as I finished it "—nny's funeral. I—"

"We're handling it," Arthur said. "A private funeral in the Weasley graveyard as is our custom."

Fair enough. She wasn't a Potter. Would never be a Potter now.

"Okay," I sighed in relief. "Thank you. Do you know when…" his look made me hesitate.

"I'm sorry," he said uncomfortably. "A, er, well, family funeral."

I was puzzled for a moment, then I saw George and winced. Of course, a family funeral. They were burying Fred too. I'd been planning on asking about that anyway so it wasn't an issue.

"Harry, can we talk for a moment?" Bill asked leading me back up the path.

"I was actually hoping to speak to you in private," I said.

He frowned slightly, but didn't say anything.

"What was it you wanted?" I asked.

"I, um," Bill ran one hand back through his long hair. "Our family tradition is that funerals are private affairs."

I closed my eyes, "I don't want a media circus, Bill. I just want to be able to bury my girlfriend in peace."

"I know," Bill said. "But you can't."

"What?" I asked softly.

"What Dad didn't say is that it's for family only," Bill said. "If you were engaged…" he looked hopeful.

For a moment I wanted to flat-out lie. We'd talked about it. Merlin we'd talked about it. But it was just before his wedding and we didn't want to overshadow it. The news that the-Chosen-One was getting engaged would have beaten out Voldemort's death for the front-page headline of the Daily Prophet, much less the marriage of Bill and Fleur Weasley.

And even if we'd just kept it amongst her family and our closest friends, would it have been right to spring it on them before? It'd still have felt like I was upstaging them, and I respected Fleur too much to do that. I didn't know Bill half as well, but you don't compete in a tournament that's killed a significant number of its contestants without learning something about your fellow competitors. Yes, she'd called me a 'little boy', in fairness I had been, and that Harry Potter probably wouldn't have cared.

I'm not him, I wish I was.

I thought I was going to draw my wand and strike him down. I mean, this was the family who'd become my own. I'd plotted the break-in at Gringotts with the help of Bill and traded stories about Norbert and the Hungarian Horntail with Charlie for stories about working on a dragon reserve. I had listened to Percy talk about cauldron bottom thicknesses and given a thousand galleons to the Twins so that they could open their shop and invent pranks. They weren't even going to let me see her body put in the ground because of some stupid tradition.

"No," I told him, my throat was tight with rage. Voldemort's wand was practically begging me to curse the man in front of me but I ignored it. "We talked about it, but we didn't want to upstage your wedding."

He winced slightly and I knew that I'd hurt him. Knew that he knew that we'd made that choice in respect to him and Fleur and that he knew what it cost me. A part of me liked that look, wanted to see more, but I pushed it down. Right now anger was bad. If I let it out it'd blow all my other defenses away. It'd meant I'd have to confront the source of my anger and pain.

"There were other concerns as well," I added after a moment. "Security concerns." Stupid traditions weren't his fault.

He raised an eyebrow but I didn't explain—I didn't need to—as I rooted in my pockets for a scrap of parchment and something to write with. "Can I visit after the funeral, or is that forbidden as well?"

"No, that'd be fine," he said.

"Good," I said. Parchment found, a twig was easily transfigured into a pencil. I wrote a short list, six flowers and a tree (seven being a magically significant number and all). Five of the flowers to show how I felt, one to represent me, one to represent her.

"Bundle these together and toss them over her coffin for me," I said.

He took the list. "Flower language," he said.

"I got Neville to help me with revision for the Herbology O.W.L."

"Really? I would have thought you studied with Hermione."

"Would you let Hermione know you were studying with someone else?" I asked.

"Not a chance."

"Exactly. Hermione's great, but Neville was the one to go to in our year for help with Herbology, I traded him for help with Defense after Umbridge shut down the DA."

"Okay, but…juniper?"

I shrugged, "Juniper is the root, you should pardon the term, of her name."

"What about Fred?"

"I'll come up with something later, there isn't a flower for 'annoying pain in the arse'. Wait," I thought for a moment. No, that wouldn't work, but maybe… "Halitosy and puffapods, make sure that you drop them in, not place them on the coffin."

Bill nodded, "He'd appreciate it…what were you originally thinking of?"

"Poison ivy."

"I'll find some," Bill said. "You said that you wanted to talk to me about something?"

"I'm looking to hire a Cursebreaker," I said. "Interested?"

"Doing what, exactly?"

"Breaking curses."

Bill rolled his eyes, "Okay. What kind of curses?"

"I don't know, but I'll need them broken when I find them. Knowing the people involved, probably ones that make you die a truly miserable death while everyone around you watches and is glade it wasn't them who tried to break it if you mess up."

"Charming," he said dryly.

I shrugged, "Job has its benefits."

"Such as?"

I hold out one of the leather Auror-shield folios.

"Besides pay," he said, taking it.

"Pay's probably miserable," I offered. "Go ahead and open it."

"An Auror shield?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Impersonating an Auror is illegal," he said, but didn't get rid of it.

"Check it again."

Bill looked at me, then drew his wand and waved it over the shield while chanting in something that sounded like violins backed by McGonagall in her cat-form raking her claws across a blackboard. "It's legit."

I nodded.

"You know who the new Chief of Aurors is?"

I nodded again.

Bill waited.

I waited.

Bill rolled his eyes. "Who's the new Chief of Aurors?"

"Me."

Bill frowned. "That's what Kingsley wanted to talk to you about last night, or was it this morning?"

"Yes."

Bill hesitated. "How much time do we have to decide?"

I shrugged, "Technically as much as you want; in reality…something less. At least eight Death Eaters killed their escort and escaped while they were being transported this morning. That's not including any that retreated during the fighting and managed to escape."

"I hadn't heard anything about that," Bill said.

"I just found out a few hours ago," I replied. "Tonks is seeing what assets the department has. I'm trying to recruit a few new ones."

Bill's expression grew concerned. "How is she handling Remus' death?"

I shrugged. I didn't know how I was handling his death. I knew exactly how I was handling his sister's.

I wasn't.

"Look, Bill, I did some researching a couple years back about careers. I do remember the life expectancy on Cursebreakers. That you're still alive and whole means you either weren't doing much, or were very, very good and very, very lucky."

"Thank you," Bill said dryly.

"Those are skills that I need, and I need people I can trust. Right now the only Auror I have any faith in at all is Tonks. Furthermore I need your contacts with the goblins."

"After what happened last time?" Bill asked warily.

"What about it?" I asked blithely. "We got what we were after, Griphook got what he was after, and yes, maybe we should have negotiated for passage out but we didn't and fair is fair."

"Except that Griphook didn't get what he wanted," Bill said.

"We said we'd give him the sword," I said. "I didn't say anything about tampering with any magic in it. Hell, Bill, I thought that was the end of the sword right up until Neville pulled it out of the Sorting Hat."

Bill didn't reply for a while. "I'll think about it. That's all I'll promise."

"That's all I'll ask for then," I said.

"What kind of deal were you looking for with the goblins?" he asked.

"I don't know, yet," I said. "I'm still kicking ideas around, but there must be someway that we can go after the Death Eaters' resources. If we can take away their funds, it'll be a lot harder for them to influence the Ministry and Wizengamot, purchase supplies, or even stay hidden."

"As I said, we'll talk about it," Bill said.

I nodded and wandered off to find Percy.

As it turned out I didn't have to avoid anyone to talk to Percy. Percy had clearly avoided his family so that he could talk to me. Funny that.

Four years ago he'd avoided his family in favor of his job in the Ministry. Three years ago he did abandon them for the same reason. That same year he'd written a letter to Ron telling him that I was really just an awful person who wanted nothing more to drag people down and watch the world burn.

Frankly, sitting back and watching the world burn didn't sound half-bad right now. Goodbye Death Eaters. Goodbye Daily Prophet. Goodbye Ministry of Magic. Goodbye all the people who thought me 'dangerous' and 'deranged' one year only to call the 'the Chosen One' the next.

But Percy had owned up to his mistakes and fought at the Battle of Hogwarts so clearly there was a decent person hiding somewhere in the dark corner of his bureaucratic soul. It gave me hope for the rest of the wizarding world, really it did.

Who was I kidding? I still wanted to watch it burn.

I gave Percy his badge and started to walk on towards the pond.

"Orders, Sir?" Percy asked.

I stopped. "Sir?"

"Er," he said, his neck turning red. "Chief of Aurors?"

"How long have we known each other, Percy?"

"Seven years this fall. Since the Hogwarts Express your first year."

I nodded. "You've know me since I started my first year. What's with this 'Sir' stuff?"

"Proper respect is essential in maintaining—"

"Your words, Percy, tell me in your words. Not some Ministry manual printed before Shakespeare was born."

Percy shrugged.

I sighed, it'd have to do.

"I suppose you can call me 'Chief'," I allowed, "Or maybe Commander Potter since that's my rank. I'd really prefer it though if you could call me 'Harry', especially if we're alone, or not in the office or field."

Percy smiled slightly, "Commander Potter, it has a ring to it."

I rolled my eyes. "Right now I need to know what I have to work with. How many people, what level of training, how much and what kinds of experience. How much funding we're getting, how we're fixed for supplies, whether they're for investigations, combat, or healing."

He nodded and I could practically see the gears turning in his mind as a quill scratched out a list of things to do.

"I need to know how many I can trust, if any collaborated with Voldemort, if so, then why," I continued. "Before we do anything else, and I have ideas, I want the department clean and us stopping dark wizards and witches. Right now the second is more important than the first. If we have to assign people to something harmless because of doubts, fine, as long as it's a useful something, unless they are a security breach."

"Understood."

"Also, make a note. I plan to get the department independent of the others. No separate detachments assigned to us, everything comes from in house. There's an MIB detachment assigned, I'm planning on keeping them and not giving them back. I'm looking to hire a Cursebreaker and maybe a medi-witch or wizard, as well as a potion brewer if I can find them. I'm thinking of contacting the DA and seeing if any of them are interested, but I haven't done that yet."

Percy nodded so someone had obviously explained our fifth and sixth years to him.

"They're good, but only getting probationary shields, for the most part," I continued, "At least until they can get more training. I know of one person who knew how the Death Eaters operated fairly well, we haven't spoken but he might be a useful candidate. Also, I have plans for a deal with Lucius Malfoy. If he gives us his full and complete cooperation he avoids Azkaban. If he withholds information or deliberately misleads us I'll drop him in Azkaban so fast he'll wonder what the portkey was. I haven't spoken with him yet, but I plan to and I don't plan to leave him a way out."

"That's quite a list of assets," Percy said.

"Not enough if we have to do it all ourselves," I said. "If you get a chance, talk to Bill. I've already offered to hire him away from Gringotts, and offered the idea, but I want to know if there are any options for seizing Death Eaters' gold. Without money it'll be a lot harder for them to hide out."

Percy nodded, "I think I can make it sound like I came up with a similar idea. I also have a friend in the Goblin Liaison Office…"

"Excellent. Try to keep things discreet, if you can."

"Of course. Will there be anything else?"

"Probably," I said. "Look, Percy, I'm in over my head. Put me in a fight and so far I've been able to hold my own, but I'm not an Auror. I don't have the training and skill sets. I have no idea what kind of paperwork is involved or how to run an investigation. Right now I'm just making it up as I go along and trying to surround myself with people that I know are good at what they do, and that I can trust."

Precy looked taken aback, "You…trust me? After that letter I wrote to Ron, you still trust me?"

"You were an officious rule-bound git when we were in school who took points from Ron and me for coming out of a girl's loo, instead of for brewing polyjuice potion in it so that we could sneak into the Slytherin common room and get Draco to confess to knowing who the Heir of Slytherin was," I said.

"The only thing that changed after you joined the Ministry is that you became an officious rule-bound git with a swelled head that was only made worse by an Imperiused Mr. Crouch leaving you in charge. I spent enough time around Madam Umbridge after she started her little reign of terror in Hogwarts to know just how sycophantic Fudge's sycophants were."

Percy had been getting steadily redder as I spoke, and I held up a finger to forestall him. "I've also spent enough time around Ron during the last almost-seven-years to know just what you Weasleys are like when you are being total idiots. I also know, from repeated experience, what you are like when you realize that you are being idiots. I'll admit that Ron's never stretched things out like the way you have, but you seem to have come to your senses about both Fudge and your own idiocy.

"Or am I wrong?"

Percy opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water for almost a minute. Finally, in a rather strangled voice, he said, "you're not wrong."

"See?" I asked. "Now, can you work for me without being an idiot?"

Percy frowned. "Why that? Why not ask about not being sycophantic, or an officious rule-bound git?"

"Because if you get sycophantic I'll kick you out ever faster than I'll slam Lucius in Azkaban if he doesn't cooperate, and that'll hurt your career more than Crouch did. As for the other thing, I'm practically counting on it. So long as you are a creative officious rule-bound git."

Percy laughed.

Why is it that when I'm being serious people think I'm funny, and when I'm trying to be funny people think I'm serious?

Percy took off to get something from the house and I told him that I wanted to go in together. He'd given me a strange look but agreed to wait until I'd talked to Hermione and Ron.

I found them by the pond, exactly where Ron had said they'd be.

The pond had been her favorite place, the one place she could count on having any privacy. Ron had never cared for it, and the twins had been wary of her even before she entered Hogwarts. I had a hard time imagining Percy bothering anyone unless it was to enforce rules of some type and the age gap was too large between her and her eldest brothers for them to really bother her.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione said softly as I approached.

I nodded in reply and stared out at the pond. "I thought George was still in St. Mungo's."

"They needed the bed-space," Hermione said. "He's taking about thirty different potions and isn't allowed to do any magic. He shouldn't even be walking around, as it is he's usually set up in the living room on the couch so he isn't alone."

I nodded. Being alone with nothing to do meant a lot of time thinking. Thinking was…bad.

"I'm sorry."

I looked at Ron.

"About what Dad said," he explained. "But it's—"

"Family," I said. "I know, Bill explained."

"Were you engaged? Gin talked about it but never actually—"

"No."

He looked at me and I turned away and searched the bank of the pond for a couple of flat stones.

"We talked about it," I said, slinging a stone into the pond so that it skipped three times. I'd never been out skipping stones before she showed me in the summer before fourth year. It managed to be both oddly connecting at the same time it was a nice mindless exercise to concentrate on so that I didn't have to think about her. "We didn't want to upstage Bill's wedding, and then I was pretending to be your cousin for a while…we agreed to make it formal afterwards but the Ministry fell and…" I shrugged.

"Oh," he said.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorr—"

I slung another stone, only two that time, too much power at a bad angle. The last thing I really needed was for Hermione's sympathy. Apparently she picked up on it because she chopped off what she was going to say in mid-word.

"How are you doing mate?" Ron asked.

"I've been better," I said.

"Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean what's wrong?" Ron demanded. "Even I can see what's wrong."

"No, Ron, she's right," I said, sending a third stone skipping across the water to sink near the middle of the pond. "Kinglsey made me Chief Auror."

"Chief Auror, are you certain?" Ron asked.

I looked at him.

He shrugged, "I heard he was going to open it up to anyone who fought at the Battle of Hogwarts. But Chief Auror, really?"

I held out my badge folio.

"Did you ask him why?" Hermione asked.

I shrugged. "I'm not sure I want to know."

"This is good though, right?" Ron asked.

"Unless this is a real clever way of getting me to do what Scrimgour wanted me to be," I said, "A poster boy."

"Or setting you up for a fall, you mean," Ron said. "Isn't that how it usually works with you and the Ministry?"

I snorted. Yeah, of all of us Ron had grown up the most. "Something like that," I said. "That's not all the bad news."

"You can tell us, Harry," Hermione offered.

"In addition to anyone that escaped during the battle, eight Death Eaters killed their guards and escaped," I said. "I also got the updated casualty list."

Ron didn't have anything to say to that.

"How bad was it?" Hermione asked.

"Seventy-three dead on our side identified so far, ten of them members of the DA and Lavender isn't expected to survive her injuries," I said offering her the list. "Another eight—seven now, I guess, with George out of St. Mungo's—in the hospital. Justin Finch-Fletchley is still missing. Since he wasn't found in Azkaban with the other muggle-born he's presumed dead."

"Oh God, oh-oh Merlin," Hermione said as Ron wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a one-armed hug.

"So what's the plan?"

"Plan?"

"You always have a plan," Ron said. "Admittedly, it usually isn't much of one and it usually isn't very good, but that's what you have us for. Hermione to tell us what all will go wrong, me to come up with a better one, and you to get us all out of it when it falls in the crapper."

"Is that how it works?" I asked, trying to smile. It was funny, it deserved that much.

He nodded.

"Clean up the Auror's office, kill all the dementors, put the Death Eaters in Azkaban, clean up the corruption in the Ministry, make a justice system that works and is fair, oh, and we might as well find a way of integrating the entire magical community into it while we're at it."

"You don't do anything small, do you?" Ron asked.

"I guess not," I said. "Besides, it's not like I can play professional Quidditch."

"Don't say that, Harry," Hermione said. "You're a great seeker."

"In a school game, or maybe for the Cannons," I said. "I spent too much time on a Firebolt. I don't think I can adequately describe how outclassed the other brooms I played against were, Hermione. I let the broom do too much of the work so I never developed my game to the point where I could play competitively on a professional level. I'm still a great flier, but I don't have that…edge I'd need to play Quidditch professionally."

"How can we help?" Ron asked.

I ripped my last stone across the pond, and took my shield back and tucked it away. "Well, for starters, I thought I'd give you these…" I pulled out two more badge folios and passed them over.

"Aurors, really? This is so cool," Ron said.

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I always thought about the Ministry of course, but I was thinking of a position where I'd actually be able to change the way it functions. Make it better. I mean, they lock people away without trials, and look what they did to you, Harry! They didn't even allow you to have an advocate, and if Mr. Weasley hadn't been tipped off about the change in trial time…"

I nodded. "I know," I said. "Believe me I know. But you have to start somewhere, I figured this was as a good a place as any."

She was silent for a moment before nodding in agreement and accepted her badge from Ron. "How is Tonks?"

"Tonks?" I asked.

"A lot of people saw you two last night," she said.

"Look, Hermione, it's…last night was bad for a lot of us, all right?" I asked. "She got drunk, I took her someplace where she could sleep it off and I could keep an eye on Teddy. That's it."

She nodded. "What do you need us to do?"

"I don't know," I said. "I'm not ever sure if I'm going to keep the job."

"You're going to turn Shacklebolt down?" Ron asked with wide eyes. "But, but you're the Chief of Aurors! The youngest in—"

"Ever," I said flatly. "There's a reason for that, Ron. Aurors are supposed to have three years of training on top of their N.E.W.T.s. Okay, so Kingsley's decided to set aside that rule. But I don't have the additional training, I don't have any experience with the job, and everyone knows it."

"You can't possibly think that Shacklebolt is setting you up to fail," Hermione said. "Do you think he's trying to use you somehow?"

I turned to her. "You're the second person today that's suggested that to me, Hermione. Is there something that I should know?"

"No," she shook her head sharply. "I just can't think of any other good reason for what he's doing."

"Neither can I," I said, though I already had ideas on how to counter it. "Look, Ron, contact Neville, most of the DA is still staying at Hogwarts, those that are alive and uninjured at least. I have no plans right now, but if I need you, I'm going to need you fast. Don't draft people in if they don't want to, give them a choice."

Ron nodded.

"Okay, Hermione, I want you to come in with me," I continued. "Set you up as a guest or something. Right now I want those badges to stay secret, or at least not widely known about."

As an addendum to my disclaimery-thing in chapter one, I don't own any of the quoted lyrics that I start my chapters with.